On wars won
by KeyKnows
Summary: "This world…" Sora says, and Riku holds his breath.


On wars won

The sound of the waves against the shore is still the same, the same constant, rhythmic sound that simulates the beats of a heart. It stills feels like home.

The wind, salty and fresh and gentle on his skin, is still the same. So is the sand, soft and wet under his feet, sinking with his weight and taking the shape of his shoes, as if it wants to engrave him here so he will never go again, far away from this shore and these sounds and these waves.

He saw oceans in other worlds, he actually explored the deepest depth of one in other world, he saw oceans and heard waves and had his feet sinking in the sand, and thought all of them made him think of home, it's only here when he can truly rest.

Only here, on Destiny Islands, is where Sora can close his eyes and breathe and say: I'm home.

While he traveled from one world to the other, he dreamed fervently of the day his journey would be over, he dreamed of Riku and Kairi and the play island, of the secret cave and the papou tree, he dreamed of the faces of their other friends, of their parents, he dreamed and hoped and _knew_ , that one day the three of them would come back.

And back they are. They're back to the calm, simple life of the islands, they go to school and do homework and have dinner with their families, like they weren't gone for months or years, like they don't carry the bitter shadow of experience on their shoulders, like they aren't older, like the look that sometimes they get on their faces isn't mismatched with their youthful appearance.

Sora can't tell if anyone notices, the long, far away gazes the three of them sometimes get, the heavy silence they sometimes sink in, the knowing glances they exchange. At the very least their parents do, but Riku was welcomed home rather coldly and Kairi has always been a stranger, and Sora…he can tell his mother is afraid to ask and he doesn't blame her.

He would be scare too, he muses. Ignorance can be a blessing, after all, and after breaking the woman's heart with his long absence, Sora thinks he owes his mother the small gift of unawareness, so she won't trouble herself with her son's griefs.

And it's strange to think of them as griefs when, at the end, everything turned out okay. When in the end he's back at the islands, and so are Riku and Kairi, and the worlds are at peace and the darkness and light in balance, and everything they did was worth it.

Heroes not always win their wars. They did. It should be enough.

It should bring him peace, it should let him be, it should let him go to school, do his homework, hang out with his friends, have dinner with his family in peace.

It doesn't, not in the sightless and he doesn't even know why.

Sometimes, it seems like he's afraid, like he's afraid the darkness will come to have its revenge and snatch it all away from him again. Sometimes he wakes up in cold sweat and can't bare the darkness of his bedroom; sometimes he wakes up screaming and his keyblade coming to his hand, like the shadow of his pile of dirty laundry will take shape and devour his heart.

Sometimes Riku throws pebbles at his window in the middle of the night and thought he never says much, he asks quietly to stay the night with him and only then both of them have something like peaceful sleep.

Sometimes Kairi hugs both with such desperation it hurts.

And sometimes Sora looks in the mirror and his hair appears gold instead of brown and he feels the void chewing at his heart.

Sometimes the shadows of sunset play with Kairi's hair, and she's blond and she's dark-haired and she's redhead.

Sometimes Riku closes his eyes.

Sora thinks he's missing something, that all of them are missing something, that along their journey to find each other, to find the light, to find the balance and the peace the worlds so desperately needed, they lost something. But the thing is, while they were at it, while they traveled and while they fought and while they went to hell and back, it didn't feel like they were missing something.

Sora glances out of the window in his classes and thinks, the rooftop would be a nice play to spar; walks the streets on his way home and thinks, how would he use the terrain to his advantage in a fight; goes to the docks and thinks, he could burn down the place with a single spell; sees some guys bullying some kid and thinks, he could end it with single hit, thinks, they're weak, thinks: what am I doing here.

He's not the only one. Riku sometimes asks him to spar and they go to the play island and its infuriating how much they have to hold back to don't wreck the damn place. Still, the clash of their swords feels good, the hits and the occasional spell, and the jumps and the dodges, all of it feels good, right, the adrenaline and the sweat sticking to their skin, the bruises and the blood. All of it feels more like the calm and peace Sora longed so for when he was traveling the worlds.

And yet is not enough. His fights with Riku aren't to the dead (light forbids something like that happens again), so even if his body his tired and his mind is tired, his heart longs for something else.

"This world…" Sora says, one day.

The sparring session ended time ago, but none of them felt like returning home and pretend, and now he and Riku are sitting at the shore, watching the sun get swallowed by the ocean in the horizon, this horizon Sora knows now leads nowhere. How they dreamed, as children, of what could they find at the other side of it, what marvels could be hidden beyond it; now Sora knows there's nothing there and rather he gazes at the sky and the stars.

Stars that slowly come to view as the sun sinks and whisper promises of magic and new adventures and something more than _this_.

But Sora's eyes are painfully dragged to the horizon, to the twilight.

Their bodies sink in the sand, like the land wants to engrave their shapes here so they can't never go away.

The wind, salty and fresh, comes like a gentle caress that messes with their hair.

The sound of the waves is the same it's always been and if Sora closes his eyes and pretends, pretends like has been pretending since he came back, it feels like he's young again, young and ignorant and free.

If Sora closes his eyes and pretends, it feels like home.

But Sora is too tired to pretend and instead, the sound of the waves, the feeling of the sand, the caress of the wind, all of it feels like a prison, though he doesn't know what he's imprisoned for.

"This world…"

Sora says, and Riku holds his breath.

"It's just too small."

* * *

 _idk what has possesed me to come and write fics for this fandom when i have so many fics for other fandoms to work on but, anyway, here we are_

 _i've read some fics that deal with what happens to Sora and co once they come back to the islands and all them have inspired me to write my own version, or something, hope it doesn't suck_

 _Thanks a lot for reading! Every comment will be appreciate!_


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